Nude dancers

I had my first experience with nude bars, where beauties danced completely naked on stage, at the age of 26.

The dancers got entirely naked in phases, on the second or third song (sort of strip teasing further after each song).  Walter Mitty bar was around the corner of my dorm that was reserved mostly for foreign students.  My friend Ramez was the RA of the dorm and he was studying History of Sciences, simply because the university library possessed a few very ancient manuscripts on Arabic sciences.

There was this lovely brunette of Maria.  I sent a letter to my cousin Jihad telling him that Maria looked like his wife Nada.  I am not sure how Jihad took it.  Nada should have appreciated it; shouldn’t she?  I know that many years later, Jihad reminded me of receiving this letter.  Eight years later, I returned to Norman for a PhD and Maria was still living in Norman. She was working at the university Power Plant and wearing regulation yellow helmet.  Nude dancing is far harder than even fashion modelling:  In no time you are put to pasture.

I told Maria that I liked her when she used to dance totally naked; she appreciated that I still recalled her.  We had a date and she showed up wearing high-healed, long boots, and very tight Jeans.  She took my arm when strolling and she didn’t attempt to fool around with men in the bars we made the round of.

Maria showed me her apartment a few days later, and I met her sister (maybe half sister who didn’t resemble Maria at all). I also visited Maria at the hospital after her surgery for infected uterus; she was wearing regulation hospital long shirt showing her buttocks.

As Maria returned home she invited me to her apartment and asked me if I liked to share a joint of marijuana.  I never learn from my experiences or anything from life:  I told her how marijuana affects me after just two puffs.  Maria told me that it would be pointless to get any further dates.

There was this tall, skinny, and blond girl dancing nude in 1976.  She used to set fire to her shaved cunt every night.  Obviously, she had no pubis hair and I would never be able to confirm if her white blond hair was original.

I once asked her to leave together after work.  I think that she said “Yes”.  I waited till the bar closed and she had left.  I was a very shy guy and I wished that the rules would be that she would sit by my side, take my arm and drag me out.  I still don’t know the rule of asking a nude dancer to actually leave with me: if you truelly do know, please forward it.

Worst of all, patronizing this nude dancing bar exposed me to my first cigarette smoking.  I was 26 of age and had never smoked before.  I am now nicotine addicted.

I recall the first time I smoked a joint.

I was in a convertible Alfa Romeo with two Lebanese university students. We were heading toward the lake on a lovely, moonlit summer night (do you recall Shakespear of mid-summer night?) .  My friends were having a great time, speeding and listening to “Leila”, a guitar song played by Eric Clapton. On the way back, we had a bite and coffee at a diner; they laughed a lot at my expense because I had a hell of problems keeping the lids of my red eyes open.

I twice experienced smoking a joint in groups, never alone, to “train myself for a better fit among marijuana smokers”.

Once, we were in our apartment and half a dozen friends left to see a movie and dance; they decided to leave me behind, since I was “stoned all right” on the couch. When they returned 4 hours later, I was still lying on the sofa, my eyes closed shut, listening to music, trying to differentiate the timbers among the different musical instruments:  I had no idea about instruments anyway, but I thought this might be my chance or never to appreciating tones and half tones.

The third instance was in a park, close by my  apartment; I was enjoying an afternoon of open concert in a beautiful summer day. I woke up and the park was empty and dark already. I walked my bike home.

Walter Mitty was still around the corner when I returned in 1985 for still a higher degree.

I patronized it with my friend Boubker.  Boubker was already a professor teaching operations research.  Girls have changed, but the system never changed.  We mostly had a pitcher during happy hours, between 4 to 6pm.

It is swell to have these kinds of quiet and cool businesses.  I wish it was possible just to touching those sweaty firm flesh!